Vicky holds my hand as I tell all the details. The way he called me Megan over and over again. How terrified I had been. She pats my hand and tells me we can take a break for a while. Brings me sugary tea and a huge slice of cake. It’s carrot cake with thick frosting. She says her mum makes cakes for the squad, which is kind of weird and sweet in equal measure.

“Did he…” She clears her throat before continuing, her voice gentle, “did he force you to…”

I shake my head. To be honest I am kind of surprised that all he ever did was touch me in the kitchen that time. Did that make him feel good about himself? I bet the smug little bastard thought he was being some kind of gentleman.

“We’ll get him. I will do everything I can to bring the fucker to justice,” Vicky tells me.

“Thank you,” I whisper in reply through a stream of tears and spit and snot.

Chapter Twenty-One

“There is something that is puzzling me,” DCI Rosenmeyer says softly. We are back in the interview room after a brief break for lunch. “We have a note here,” he taps the thick file in front of him, “that Megan was interviewed by the police at the Belsize Park station in relation to her sister’s disappearance. To your disappearance?”

“That was me,” I reply, picking at the tissue in front of me. I had wondered when they would find the hole in the story. Better they are weighed down with the obvious, the parts of the narrative I can control, than they go digging around some of the things I have less confidence in.

“You?”

“Chris told me he would kill me if I didn’t do it.”

“But we would have protected you, you just needed to say when you were at the station.”

“He was with me. He told the police I was having some problems, that lockdown hadn’t helped my mental health issues. My paranoia and depression.”

“Does Megan have a history of issues?”

“No. But no one questioned him. He asked if he could come into the interview with me. I wasn’t under arrest, or suspicion or anything. I was just helping with inquiries.”

“I see,” DCI Rosenmeyer says like he doesn’t see at all. “But you had forgotten this. When we took the rest of your statement.”

I wipe the back of my hand over my nose. It is one of those actions that produces a natural recoil in the viewer, forcing them to look away from you. “It’s hard,” I say. “So much happened, so much I have tried to forget…”

DCI Rosenmeyer clears his throat. He doesn’t want to get into another conversation about the more personal aspects of my ordeal. Because that’s what we are now calling it. An ordeal.

“So, just to be clear…” He taps the sheet in front of him. “You came into the police station of your own volition—”